


Live a Long and Happy Life With Me

by MusicalLuna



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bad Days, Cuddling & Snuggling, Curtain Fic, Date Night, Domesticity, Drunkenness, Embarrassing Pictures, Fluff, Getting Ready, Late at Night, M/M, Morning Routines, Romance, Slow Dancing, Sooooooo fluffy, late night tv
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-11-29 17:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11446032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalLuna/pseuds/MusicalLuna
Summary: Six fluffy domestic vignettes based off of wearealsoboats post on Tumblr (text in the fic notes).





	Live a Long and Happy Life With Me

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [disgustingly cute domestic scenes to imagine your otp in](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/305724) by wearealsoboats. 



> wearealsoboats:  
> disgustingly cute domestic scenes to imagine your otp in:
> 
> * getting slightly too drunk in the middle of the afternoon and slow dancing to dumb cheesy old music and kissing in a way that’s more laughter than actual kissing, mouths clumsy and hands gripping tight and sunlight slanting over them as they move lazily together 
> 
> * curling up on the sofa together, feet tucked under thighs and arms around shoulders, watch the kind of crap tv that only airs at 3am because they don’t want to go to untangle themselves to go to bed
> 
> * hectic mornings when they each need to be somewhere and they’re rushing around each other, ducking into bathrooms and bedrooms and kitchen cupboards, pausing to straighten tops and press kisses to cheeks
> 
> * going through old photos together and collapsing into laughter every three pictures, and zooming in on ones where they’re pulling awful faces or ones that were taken at just the wrong moment
> 
> * getting ready for nights out together, standing shoulder to shoulder as they brush their teeth or get their faces ready or style their hair, knocking elbows and hips as they try and hog more space
> 
> * standing quietly together in the kitchen after long, exhausting days, leaning into each other for support, breathing in the smell of home, fingers carding through hair and stroking down spines, until they feel like they can relax and smile properly again

Tony giggles, stumbling a little into Steve’s body. Steve catches him, but they both sway and nearly topple over because they’re more than a little drunk. Tony’s a little shocked by how much more fun it is this way.

“I can’t feel my face,” Steve says, tongue rolling over his lower lip like he’s trying to find it.

“What about this,” Tony asks, and kisses him.

He’s not particularly coordinated at the moment, so his mouth’s sloppy on Steve’s. Steve seems to think it’s funny, because he laughs into Tony’s mouth, his hands coming up to cup Tony’s jaw and hold them steady. It doesn’t really work; he’s just as sloppy. The kiss is pretty great anyway.

They’re both breathing hard by the time they part a little. Warm sunlight is draped over their shoulders in bars from the skylight overhead and Tony giggles again because he’s drunk at two o'clock in the afternoon with Captain America who’s flushed pink from Asgardian mead.

Ella Fitzgerald is crooning on the radio and they’re not really doing a whole hell of a lot of actual dancing, but that’s okay. Steve’s hands are warm on his skin and he feels fuzzy and soft and loved.

* * *

Steve can barely keep his eyes open.

It’s three AM and Tony’s curled up against his side, head resting in the curve of Steve’s shoulder. The case of the arc reactor presses into Steve’s ribs with each of Tony’s breaths and he’s warm and comfortable, body heavy with relaxation.

“Look at that thing go,” Tony mumbles, his toes stroking Steve’s leg in long, lazy passes.

“Mm,” Steve murmurs in return. They’ve been watching infomercials for the better part of an hour because neither of them wants to move this to bed, or even to get the remote sitting three feet away on the coffee table.

“C'n you imagine what DUM-E’d do with that thing?”

Steve huffs a laugh.

They should really go to bed, or they’re both going to regret it come morning, but he can’t for the life of him work up the energy to do anything about it when he’s got Tony’s smooth skin under his fingertips and the smell of Tony’s hair in his nose.

Another few minutes, then they’ll go.

* * *

Tony ignores his alarm and ends up regretting it. He wakes up thirty-eight minutes later than he’s supposed to and ends up flinging himself out of bed, his heart pounding uncomfortably against the arc reactor. He’s digging for clothes when the Avengers alarm goes off and Steve bolts upright in the bed, hair flat on one side and sticking up wildly on the other.

Steve hauls ass out of bed, heedless of his nudity and Tony’s too busy knotting a tie around his neck to enjoy the sight.

“Meeting’s today?” Steve yells from the bathroom while Tony’s sitting on the end of the bed putting on his shoes.

“Yeah,” Tony calls back. He hates that they’re answering a call without him, but he’s got a company to run and that’s that.

Steve emerges from the bathroom with the lower half of the uniform on and the top hanging off of one arm. “Good luck,” he says and Tony ducks his head forward when Steve reaches out to fix his collar.

“Thanks,” he says and presses a quick kiss to Steve’s stomach. “I’ll join you guys as soon as the meeting’s over.”

Steve brushes his cheek with the pad of one thumb. “With any luck, it won’t go that long.”

Tony helps him shrug into the other arm of the uniform and zips him in. They share another kiss. “Be safe,” Tony tells him.

They’re both out the door a minute later.

* * *

Steve laughs so hard he forgets how to breathe when JARVIS shows them the picture of Tony at seventeen in a baggy neon yellow tank and tiny hot pink shorts with white piping. He’s got his hair cut short on the sides and long on the top and it’s artfully combed back and Steve is pretty sure he’s never seen anything this great in his entire life.

“I hate you,” Tony grumbles. “This is completely unfair. There are no pictures of you as a kid and fashion in the 30s was cool, not a collective trainwreck.”

Steve kisses his cheek, still chuckling. “I’m sorry? Photos were a luxury back then.”

“Excuses.” Tony waves a hand. “JARVIS, bring up the one of Steve with the face again.”

Steve groans when JARVIS obeys and a photo of him with his face twisted up, so he looks kind of like a demented sneezing rabbit reappears. It’s a candid from somewhere in Europe.

Tony cackles.

He zooms in until Steve’s contorted face is the only thing visible in the frame.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, “laugh it up.” He can’t hide his smile though.

* * *

Their bathroom is equipped with a double vanity and about three miles of counter space (which they’ve taken— _ahem_ —advantage of more than a few times). It makes it easy for them to get ready at the same time, but it’s still something of a novelty for Tony when they get ready for date night side by side.

It’s weirdly nice to hear the water running on Steve’s side while he’s bent close to the mirror on his own side, gently dabbing concealer under his eyes. Steve says he doesn’t need it, but Tony’s been in the spotlight too long to be able to forego it and feel good. He doesn’t want to spend their whole night thinking about how dark the bags under his eyes are.

When he’s applied and set it with powder, he glances over at Steve and finds him carefully parting his hair with a comb. Tony goes over to supervise.

He winds his arms around Steve’s waist and kisses his shoulder, his chest lighting up with pleasure when Steve’s frown of concentration melts into a smile. “All set?” Tony asks.

It’s soothing, how neatly Steve’s hair parts.

“Just about.”

Steve looks at him in the mirror, eyes taking him in from head to toe. “You look perfect to me.”

Tony feels himself flush.

* * *

It’s been a long, lousy day.

Steve aches all over and he’s tired down to his bones. Tony isn’t faring much better and the bruises and vicious red scrapes on his visible skin aren’t doing anything to help Steve relax. It’s like a visible record of Steve’s failure.

The kitchen is quiet and mostly dark, but for the light over the stove. After the day they’ve had, the darkness is welcome, soothing.

In spite of how Steve’s let him down, Tony stands close, his forehead resting on Steve’s shoulder while Steve heats up milk on the stove. He’s warm and his presence is grounding, the sensation of his fingers trailing up and down Steve’s arm keeping Steve from slipping too deep into his own thoughts. He’s just so grateful to have Tony here, alive.

Steve tips his head to the side and rests it on the top of Tony’s head while they both watch the pan, curling one arm around Tony’s waist. Tony smells like metal and freshly-washed hair, familiar and clean and comforting.

Steve doesn’t know what he’d do without him.

Tony cards his fingers through Steve’s hair and Steve has to squeeze his eyes shut against a surge of emotion.

“Love you,” Tony murmurs, knuckles caressing Steve’s face.

“I love you,” Steve echoes, voice as rough as the day has been. Tony sighs, content, and Steve thanks God they both made it through another day.

“Today was shit, huh?” Tony says lightly and it startles a laugh out of Steve.

“It really was.”

Tony hums. “Got this though, so not all bad after all.”

Steve looks down at him and knows how stupid and fond his expression is. “No, I’ve got everything I could think to ask for.”

He feels Tony smile against his collarbone and just like that, everything seems better than it did before.


End file.
